My Past Does Not Dictate my Future
by SarahWoodburn
Summary: Mollie Potter. During Harry's fifth year, he and his sister are reunited. She's had a rough past, let's just say that he lucked out when he got the Dursleys. What will she change? Will she ever trust them? OC, Non-Cannon.


**Chapter One**

"Sir?" I questioned hesitantly, standing by the door. The men had arrived moments before, inviting themselves into the house. Two of them seemed fairly normal, sitting patiently on the sofa, having a gesture predominant discussion, their voices never rising above harsh whispers. The last of the trio though, was unusual even by my standards. He wore robes that swirled around him, making him seem tall even as he sat on the low armchair. His long white hair skimmed the floor. Is it even possible to grow facial hair that long?

Unlike the other two, he looked directly at me, his startling blue eyes gazing at me intently over his half moon glasses. It made me uncomfortable. Like he was reading me. What were they doing here anyway? "Sir?" I said slightly louder, stepping further into the room, wary of getting to far away from the glorious escape that the door presented. My question startled the discussing men from their conversation, and they both sat straight and looked at me too.

I regret calling their attention now. I was even more uncomfortable. I was stopped halfway through my subtle retreat to the exit as the white haired man spoke "Miss Potter, thank you for your hospitality." I started. Not because of his surprisingly gentle voice, but because of how he addressed me. No one had called me by that name for so long. Not since I was practically a toddler. How did he..? "I must ask though," he sat forward, his glasses slipping further down his nose, "where is your… father?"

The black haired man growled slightly under his breath, the gentle looking brunette next to him resting his hand on his companions shoulder, seemingly to calm him. I retreated further, still cautious of their intent. "My father, sir? Mr Blackwood is currently… indisposed." I spoke as clearly as I could, my hands clenching and twisting behind me as I struggled to keep my voice level. Then I realised how damn suspicious that sounded. _Indisposed?_ What a guilty word! "What I mean is that he is busy, as am I for that matter. I need to leave in near an hour. Could you inform me of what you want in the house?" I stated levelly, keeping eye contact with the old man.

His eyes sparkled. Someone with a limited vocabulary would say twinkled but I feel that that is an overused description. "Yes, Miss Potter, I am aware that you need to go. We," he gestured to his party, "are your escorts."

My eyebrow arched, immediate distrust settling in. I took another step back, able to rest my back against the door frame. My hands grasped at the rusting handle behind me, ready to take flight. "Is that so?" I tested the words carefully. If they were my escorts, they would know what I'd done. So why are they acting so normal? In fact, who the hell are they? "And could I enquire as to who you are, Sir?" I tilted my chin, casually surveying all the possible escape routes, weapons and hiding spaces.

"I am Remus." The brunette spoke up, his gravelly voice gently soothing. He had scars along his face, presenting an interesting contrast of the shiny smooth skin of the wounds to his grey, tired skin. He was nothing to be afraid of. A man with scars is not dangerous. It shows that they have lost their fights. His friend, however, was the opposite.

"And I am Sirius Black." He smirked. He was a pretty boy, an old pretty boy, but a pretty boy none the less. He had no scars, but haunted, dark eyes. A troublesome past, a few traumatic experiences, no doubt. They, they were the dangerous ones. The strong ones, that have been through the rough. They were the ones that resented the world, but kept going. That harboured the ill feelings that clung to their past, relentless in their vicious plight until they felt they had repaid the wrongdoings that had been done against them. But once repaid, they didn't stop. They always got addicted to the rush, kept going until they were stopped.

"Albus Dumbledore, pleasure to make your acquaintance." The old man said with a crooked smile, extending his hand. Not to shake it would be a sign of weakness, but to shake it would leave the only easy exit unguarded. Pride got the better of me. My hand enclosed around his. Then the memories came.

_A strict faced women stared down at the young man, with the old, blue eyes. "Your sister's dead." she uttered emotionlessly, offering no comfort. _

_"Don't speak to me again. Don't come near me again. This is your fault!" another boy spat up to the first. He was smaller, but they looked identical. Brothers. He turned away and didn't look back._

_"Don't do this Tom." A middle aged man spoke. Again, he had the eyes. "Tom is a name of betrayal. My name is Lord Voldemort!" a hash voice cackled. The man closed his eyes in dismay. _

You'd think I'd be used to this by now. But it still took my breathe away. Perhaps this time, however, it was because this man before me, this man, knew Voldemort! The man that killed my parents. I looked at him with appraisal, covering my reaction to his memories as they continued to wash over me until he unclasped my hand.

I looked at the two men behind him. Remus and Sirius. They were obviously together. Though, to their credit, they were attempting to hide it. I recognise them. I know it sounds stupid, but I do. I'm not sure where from though.

"Well, if you are my escorts, I am due at court in less than twenty minutes. Am I allowed to bring my wand?" I asked out of politeness, there was no chance in hell that I would leave my only assured weapon behind.

"You may. Please, hold onto my arm and we shall apparate immediately." Dumbledore smiled, extending the specified limb. Mere seconds after I secured my hand around his arm we appeared in a great hall. It was large. Made of black stone. It was ambitious, and a little gaudy. A large gold statue depicting a wizard couple was in the centre. To me, it seemed a little ostentatious, not to mention ignorant. It showed two magical creatures gazing up at the wizard and witch in what could only be described as awe. House elves are so much more magically advanced than wizards, yet this is how society views them? It just irks me.

Remus grabbed my hand, guiding me down a hall. Dumbledore was besides me, but Sirius was no where to be seen. "Excuse me," I muttered by Remus' ear. "But where has S-" his eyes widened "your _friend_, gone?" I corrected, hoping I'd read his response correctly.

"I'll tell you after the hearing." He whispered back, having to duck slightly as he was a good head and a half taller than me.

"Who says you'll see me afterwards?" I shot back quickly, as we approached a large wooden door, that was being hefted open by what I assumed were guards. We live in a magical community, could we not have magical doors. Or slightly less heavy ones? Does no one see this?!

Before he could answer, I strode into the room, head held high. The room was full to the brim with ministry wizards and witches. Which, in fairness, was no over reaction. This was pretty serious. In the centre of the large room was a rather rickety looking chair. As I took a seat, a tall, skinny red headed man clapped manacles around my wrist. I scowled at him, growling a little. He whimpered. Pathetic.

"Weasley! Don't communicate with the prisoner!" a nervous man with an obscene wig on his head called. He stood behind a small table, roughly half way up the stands. He clutched in his hands a gavel, but it was slipping from his sweat. His beady little eyes turned to me, glinting maliciously.

Ah yes. You have the pretty boys. The ones that are violent because they're taking out their heartache on the world. But then you get these. Chauvinistic pigs who are malicious and violent because they can be. They are greedy and cowardly, looking down on the little men and licking the arses of the men higher than themselves. Sadly, it seemed that this one was as high as one could get.

"Mollie Potter." He licked his lips after his shout. "You are aware of why you are here?"

"Yes, I should hope so!" I called cheerily, grinning up at him.

"Would you like to inform the court?" He shouted back sternly.

"Oh! But shouldn't they know? Gosh, you really aren't doing your job all too well, are you, Sir?" I smirked, keeping my voice innocent and light. I was going down anyway, why not have fun doing it?

The man's face turned a putrid shade of purple as he opened his mouth to presumably scream at me. Before he could, a older women with a stern face interrupted, "Mollie Potter, you are on trial before the Ministry of Magic for the murder of Christopher Blackwood." Ahhh, she ruined the fun!

"Well yes I am, Ma'am!" I smiled at her politely. "I don't have a defense, but, then again, neither does he so I'd say we're on even grounds!"

She sighed insufferably, "I am Madam Bones. Could you please tell the court your version of events? We know that Mr Blackwood died two days ago from a stab wound to the stomach and that you were found at the scene."

My eyes hardened. "Yeah." Actually, I think I'm done. I'm done. I don't want to get out of this. In prison I'll be on my own. With no one there to hurt me. If I get charged innocent, I'll have to go back into the world and, to be honest, I think I'm too cowardly to do that. "I stabbed him. Three times. He'd come downstairs from his room. I was in the kitchen. He came in and BAM!" I shouted, slamming my chained wrists together. "I stabbed him. Right in the stomach." I smirked. The men and women in the stands looked disconcerted at my change. I'd gone from innocent and sweet to violent and psychotic. "Is that enough of a confession for you?" I spat, making sure my grin showed many teeth.

"Sadly, Miss Potter, I have some evidence, even though you believe there is nothing but your word." A voice called from behind me. The sadistic grin dropped from my features as I span around in the chair. Dumbledore. "Although, for whatever reason, Miss Potter seems to want to go to prison, I have evidence that proves her innocence."

I cursed. I'd only just met the man, but he felt he had to interfere. NO! He approached the pensieve at the front of the court, gesturing for Madam Bones to join him. As he passed me, he held his wand to my head, looking at me with the utmost pity. I struggled, straining to pull my skull away, but felt as though I was incapable of movement. He pulled a silver strand from my temple, dragging it away with his wand. I glared. This just proves that I shouldn't have trusted them. I didn't trust them. But I… trusted them more than others. Especially Remus. Not the point!

Madam Bones pulled her head out of the pensieve and looked at me with new eyes. Instead of the emotionless glint from before, her grey eyes softened and she looked at me pityingly. I hated it.

She turned to the crowd "Witches and Wizards," she addressed them as she held her wand to her throat, making her voice echo far louder than necessary. It boomed around the room, rebounding off the cold, stone walls. "New evidence has arisen. Miss Potter's actions were that of self defence. These forcefully retrieved memories prove this. Whilst we do not know what-"

A small cough interrupted her. It's source was a short, stout woman, wearing an atrociously offensive pink hat, where as the others all wore it in black. "Madam Bones, what evidence," she simpered scathingly, "could prove her innocent?" she giggled sweetly, her falsified amiable persona repulsive.

"Well, Dolores, if you could let me finish?" Madam Bones said coolly, "I have here, evidence of self defence. It is clear from these memories, that Christopher Blackwood was abusive to his daughter. Her killing him was self defence, but not only of herself, but saving another young woman as well. This woman, I believe, is currently in St Mungos, being treated for lesser wounds than Miss Potter currently sustains, without treatment. So I see no reason why we should detain her for any longer, and allow her to seek medical help. Does anyone object?" She spoke with authority, her power clear through her stance even though she stood below her peers. No one rose their hands.

"Well, I guess that means I'm free to leave!" I called cheerily, with slight sarcasm, getting up, and stretching my restrained hands above my head. "Oi, Weasley, undo these and give me my wand!" I yelled, glaring heatedly at Dumbledore. He could've, _should've_, just left me. He doesn't know me! The ginger scampered up and slowly went to unlock the cuffs. "Hurry up. You may have to be here, but I sure as hell don't!" I snarled, making him flinch. He muttered under his breath as he unlocked them, running back to his seat.

I turned, and stalked out of the hall. On my way out I passed a black haired kid with nerdy glasses. I smirked at him. This could be fun. I paused and bent close to his ear, "Watch your back, kiddo, they do not enjoy jokes. And the head guy's a bit pissy." I went to walk away but then turned back "And that Weasley?" I muttered again, "No backbone, just shout." I winked and carried on walking.

**Thanks for reading! Please review. Sorry, there were some issues with formatting but I think I fixed it :P**


End file.
